


Maybe He's Across the Sea

by gingerink



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, boys been idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 03:04:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4689917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerink/pseuds/gingerink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nico and Lewis live in a world where your soulmate is governed by a few lines on your wrist (or the Brocedes soulmark fic nobody wanted).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe He's Across the Sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ILLEGAILE](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ILLEGAILE/gifts).



> This fic is from a while ago, but G (illegaile) insisted I post it! Enjoy!

Lewis has had the ornate crown marking on his wrist for as long as he can remember. His mother tells him that it appeared five months after he was born, the dark lines forming on his caramel coloured skin. He runs his finger over it sometimes, as though to calm himself, he brushes his hand over it before the start of every race, the pads of his fingers sweep over the thin black lines. It’s a beautiful crown, all clean and crisp lines. Lewis certainly thinks so but the bullies do not. They chase him around the school, rip his school shirt, their fingers rake over his mark, drawing blood.  
  
“That’s such a girly looking soulmark, Hamilton.” They sneer.   
  
Lewis ends up keeping his head down, his sleeves pulled over the mark. He learns karate, he starts to box; sweat drips down his shoulders, the hurt presses into the hard leather, his gloves hide the mark to an extent, but one of the lines stands out on damp skin.  


* * *

  
Nico was born with a Brazilian flag on his hipbone. His father smiled down at his newborn son, screaming at the top of his lungs. His eyes swept over the blonde hair – his hair- and his blue eyes – Sina’s eyes – Nico’s little arms were flailing about. The blanket fell slightly, revealing the soulmark, a small Brazilian flag on Nico’s hipbone – it was almost a watercolour effect.   
  
When he’s older, Nico begins to take notice of his unique mark, he sometimes runs his fingers over it, over the curve of his hipbone. He asks his daddy what it means. His daddy frowns and directs him to mummy.  
  
“That is your soulmark, Nico. That mark represents the person you will love most dearly.” Sina says, gently. She turns over her wrist and shows Nico the tiny Williams car etched on the pale skin.  
  
“So you don’t love me the most?” Nico asks, his lip wobbling slightly.   
  
“I love you with all my heart, my rakkani. But your dad is my one true love. Yours is out there somewhere.” Her fingers move to his hipbone and she smiles gently.   
  
“But what if I never find them?” Nico asks. “What if they live somewhere else?”  
  
“Well, it’s a Brazilian flag. So your soulmate might be Brazilian. That’s a country that is very far away, across the sea.”  
  
“So I’ll never meet them.” Nico cries.  
  
“Don’t fret, kulta. You will find each other.” His mother wipes away his tears.  
  
“You promise, Mama?”  
  
“I promise, Nico.” Nico nods and cuddles closer to his mum.  


* * *

  
Lewis meets Nico when they’re twelve. They’re both racing in karts. Lewis is sitting in his kart, watching the crowd mill around. His finger dances over his soulmark, the tips of his finger touching black lines – he glances up, noticing someone watching him. Another driver, wearing a black helmet – number six emblazoned on it – is watching him carefully. Lewis’s hand stills. His fingers slide away from the crown – hidden by his racing overalls – and grip his steering wheel.  The karts rev into action. The lights go out.  
  
Nico watches as the driver with the yellow helmet – like Senna he thinks – sits on his tail all race and on the last lap, he pulls a seemingly impossible manoeuvre into the eighth chicane, overtaking Nico easily. Nico watches as the driver disappears into the crowd, embracing a dark skinned man. The man pulls the yellow-helmeted driver into his arms, resting his head on top of the helmet.  Nico accepts the pat on the shoulder from his father before he goes over and congratulates the winner, as his father told him to.   
  
“Congratulations on winning the race. You drive extremely well.” Nico says.  
  
“Thanks, man!” The yellow helmeted driver replies, “You were amazing out there!”   
  
Nico smiles. The driver pulls off his helmet. Nico stares into big, brown eyes. His fingers subconsciously graze against his soulmark without him realising.   
  
The boy with the brown eyes stares back, the curl of a smile on his lips. “I’m Lewis Hamilton, I want to be like Ayrton Senna one day.” His accent sounds strange not muffled by the helmet. It’s not Spanish, or to Nico’s disappointment, Brazilian. It sounds closer to home.  
  
“Nico Rosberg. I want to be like my dad one day.” Nico responds, holding out his hand for Lewis to shake.   
  
Pale fingers meet dark skinned ones. Nico feels a jolt of something in his chest.  


* * *

  
After their first meeting, Lewis and Nico begin seeing each other at races more frequently. They spend long summers together, eating vanilla ice cream on dusty racetracks, they drive in Germany, France, Italy and England, they wrestle together; their hips brushing against one another, Nico’s hair ends up in Lewis’s mouth, they both giggle as Lewis’s foot hooks around Nico’s leg, pressing him into the mattress. Neither boy notices the dull ache in their soulmarks.   
  
Nico manages to break out of Lewis’s hold and seizes the Brit’s wrist, pressing it into the mattress. Lewis’s cuff rides up ever so slightly, revealing a few black lines, standing out against his skin.  
  
“Hey, is that-?” Nico stops suddenly.  
  
He’s always wondered if Lewis had a soulmark and what it was. He only touches his own now when he’s in need of comfort or when he’s drying himself when he steps out of the shower.  
  
“It’s my soulmark.” Lewis says as he tugs up the sleeve of his racing overalls. Nico lets his eyes rest over an ornate crown, all clean lines, standing out on Lewis’s wrist.   
  
“It’s beautiful.” He whispers, taking in all the details. His fingers itch to brush against the thin lines of the mark.   
  
“Thanks.” Lewis’s eyes are almost black. “Do you have a soulmark?”  
  
“No.” Nico says suddenly.   
  
Lewis seems to deflate at his answer. Nico bites his lip. He’s not even sure why he lied to his best friend.  


* * *

  
They get older, they grow hair on their faces and in other places, Lewis’s braces come off, Nico’s hair gets a touch longer and he grows taller. They spend more time together. They end up crashing together on their first test run. Nico laughs away the panic in his chest as Lewis’s car slams into his own.   
  
“I’m okay, Nico.” Lewis gives him the smile – the smile that doesn’t quite reach the corners of his smile.   
  
Nico mustn’t look convinced as Lewis begins to reassure him again. “I’m okay, I swear, Nico. You didn’t hurt me.”  
  
“But I could have.” Nico bites his lip. He feels a brush of fingers at his wrist.   
  
“Hey,” Lewis coaxes, his brown eyes shining. “That’s the risk we take. I wouldn’t drive around if there wasn’t an element of danger. I’d take up knitting otherwise.”  
  
Nico laughs. “You’re an idiot.”  
  
“But you love me.”  
  
Nico doesn’t answer. He surges forward and presses his lips against Lewis’s. It’s soft and hesitant, but Lewis kisses back. His tongue dances over Nico’s mouth as his hands move to grasp Nico around the waist.   
  
The kisses turn heated, Nico’s shirt hits the floor. His bare chest brushes against Lewis’s clothed torso as their tongues tangle together. Nico moans low in Lewis’s mouth as Lewis reaches down and slowly begins easing Nico’s jeans down. Nico smirks into the kiss as he begins brushing his fingers along the lines of Lewis’s lips, dancing along the hem of his t-shirt.   
  
Lewis pulls away from Nico’s lips – Nico moans at the lack of contact – but he smiles as Lewis pulls off his shirt in one lean motion. Nico can’t help himself running his eyes over the golden skin. Lewis backs Nico up against the side of the bed and gently pushes the German onto the mattress. His fingers graze over the waistband of Nico’s boxers, Nico feels like he’s on fire. His hand moves underneath the thin material to brush against Nico’s cock. Nico’s head falls back.  
  
Lewis pauses. Nico opens one eye. Lewis is looking down at him with hurt written across his face.  
  
“What’s the matter?” Nico asks, he hates how hoarse his voice is.   
  
“You said you didn’t have a soulmark.” Lewis says quietly, his eyes are full of betrayal, they keep glancing at the small Brazilian flag sitting proudly on Nico’s hipbone.   
  
“I’m sorry…I just, I didn’t want you to make fun of it.”  
  
“Nico, I have a bloody crown on my wrist, why would I make fun of your soulmark? It’s something special.” Lewis remarks. He looks down at the floor.   
  
Nico bites his lip. “I’m sorry for doubting you.”  
  
“I would never judge you, Nico. You’re my best friend.”   
  
“Yeah, best friends.” Nico says. There’s a half smile on his face.   


* * *

  
The first time Nico meets Felipe Massa, he’s on edge all day. He’s read books that describe what happens when you meet your soulmate – anything can happen - your soulmark burning intensely, being sick, a rash, to just a simple butterfly in your stomach feeling. But nothing happens when Massa claps him on the shoulder. He breathes a sigh of relief.  
  
Lewis’s crown never seems to tingle when he meets any of his girlfriends. He begins to hide it underneath the sleeves of his McLaren Mercedes overalls, the fresh tattoos climbing down his arms hides the black lines perfectly. He never tingles when he lifts the Championship trophy. Nicole is different. Nicole has a beautiful set of piano keys dancing on the inside of her arm. It’s beautiful. Lewis looks down at the crown. It doesn’t tingle when Nicole brushes her fingers against the soft skin.  He still calls her princess.   
  
Nico knows Vivian isn’t his soulmate from the moment he meets her. She has the line of a poem he’s never seen in his line across the back of her shoulders. She sometimes glances at the bright Brazilian flag on his hipbone when they’re laid in bed together. She never touches it though, she said it would be wrong.   


* * *

  
It’s a warm day at Silverstone when Lewis’s life changes forever. They’re on the bus driving around the track waving to the fans. Lewis is leaning over the railings, smiling and throwing peace signs at the crowd who cheer in satisfaction. Nico is by his side, he’s got his headphones in but he’s smiling at the crowd. Lewis tries not to glance at how tight Nico’s racing overalls are – bright white stretched over his chest.   
  
“Hey, Nico!” Jenson yells, he appears out of nowhere; moving behind behind Nico, he throws his arms around the German. “Happy birthday, princess!”  
  
Lewis glances down at his arm at the moment and sees the top of the crown poking out from underneath the white Nomex.  
  
_Princess._  
  
He swears under his breath. Everything just became so clear.  


* * *

  
  
Whenever Nico speaks to Lewis for the next few months, he seems reserved and eager to leave. His fingers itch gently at his wrist every time Nico’s dark blue eyes fall on him. They eventually stop speaking at Spa when Nico backs his car off into Lewis, effectively ending his race. Lewis ignores the dull ache in his wrist as he urges his car back to the pits, gritting his teeth every time the shredded rubber hits the track. Nico ignores the angry brown eyes on him as he focuses on the fight ahead. He glances at the Championship standings and ignores the pain in his hip.  
  
Lewis ends up winning in Abu Dhabi. Nico feels tears prick the corners of his eyes as he pulls his car into the pits and watches Lewis climb out of the cockpit of his car, waving the Union Jack around. Fireworks light up the air. Nico finds his hand pressed against the Brazilian flag. He glances at the flag wrapped around Lewis, he looks down at his hip and he wonders.  
  
Nico is in the Mercedes press room, he’s fiddling with one of the newspapers. He’s half listening to the television when suddenly he hears a familiar British accent. He looks up to see Lewis, still clothed in sweaty overalls, beaming.   
  
“I can’t believe I’ve just won the Championship. I know I’ve done it before but it still feels special.” There’s tears in his brown eyes, Nico can see them. “It’s just a surreal feeling. I’d like to thank all the fans for their support over the season, to my team, Mercedes for giving me the best car and to Nico, for giving me the fight of my life.”   
  
“So one closer to Senna?” A reporter asks him.  
  
Lewis smiles softly. “I don’t even think about it that way. I mean…Senna is my hero and I feel incredibly blessed to have what I have already.  But even if I matched Senna, I still feel I would be half the man he was.”   
  
Nico glances down at his rucked up shirt, at the Brazilian flag peeking out on the pale skin. He glances at the television; at Lewis mouthing the word Senna.   
  
_Senna. Brazilian. Lewis._  
  
He lets his head fall back against the couch.  


* * *

  
Dark blue eyes meet brown. Lewis moves into the press room, the trophy wrapped in his arms. He looks tired but he smiles when he sees Nico. Nico gets up and crosses the room in three strides. He stands and looks at Lewis, his eyes are almost golden in the light.   
  
“Hey,” Lewis whispers, Nico looks at the dark skin under Lewis’s eyes, at the freckles across his nose.   
  
“Hey.” Nico replies. “I need to show you something.”  
  
Lewis bites his lip. Nico pulls down the waistband of his jeans, showing Lewis the colourful Brazilian flag sitting proudly on his hip. Lewis puts down his trophy and brushes a finger over Nico’s pale skin.   
  
“It’s beautiful.” Lewis whispers.  
   
Nico nods and grabs Lewis’s hand, his fingers brush against Lewis’s wrist, soft inked skin.   
  
Lewis gasps. “You know.”  
  
“How long have you known?”  
  
“Long enough for me to be an idiot about it.” Lewis says, smiling.   
  
Nico smiles back as he captures the Brit’s lips in a kiss, their fingers still brushing against the soulmarks –  _their_  soulmarks. 


End file.
